The Force of Courage
by Miles Eques
Summary: A re-imagining of The Ocarina of Time, where things are not as simple as they seemed before. Come fall in love with the Legend again.
1. The Boy with No Fairy

**The Boy with No Fairy**  
a chapter of _The Force of Courage._

The boy in the treehouse woke suddenly.

He didn't make a noise or startle, not the way he used to. He simply opened his eyes and knew he would be unable to fall back asleep. Sleep was well fled in the wake of this latest nightmare.

The treehouse was very dark. The only light that could be seen shone iridescent and colorless from the haze of the forest, beyond the window above him and outside the curtain that served as his door.

As was his custom when roused by dreams, he got up to find some other way to pass the night. He stepped outside into the warm night air, and leaned against the rail of his narrow porch. There were other treehouses dotted around the glen, a little village seated comfortably on the only patch of earth for quite a distance. From these other houses, through gaps in thatch or curtain, emanated dim colored light. Each color was different – yellow, orange, purple, various shades of green or blue – and only the boy's house was dark.

No, there was another. Not far from his own house, but closer to the center of the glade, the small house dug into its tree's gnarled roots. Usually at this time of night, vibrant green could be seen through a crack near the roof, but now the house was nothing more than a black shape in the faint grayness.  
The boy smiled.

He knew where its occupant had gone.

Immediately, he turned and took the dagger from under his pillow – a treasured belonging, carved into its handle was the image of a wolf, whose tail served as the glinting metal blade. He wasn't sure where the dagger had come from, but it had been his as long as he could remember. And he never went into the woods without it.

The ageless planks of his front ladder were smooth against his bare feet, noiselessly he stepped down them, and darted up the path that led to the nearest edge of the glade. The faint light grew closer as he approached the forest. He found a thicket of blacksage reaching greedily over the path in one place, which he had to step lightly over, but the rest was free of stone or root. Perfect for running even in the dark.

Then he came to the edge. A literal edge, for instead of merely being the threshold between clearing and forest, this edge was where the island of ground stopped and the haze and the trees began. They were immense trees, and unimaginably old. They not only towered beyond sight above, but they also extended beyond sight below. The boy had never seen their roots, and as far as he knew, they didn't have any. This was the forest that suspended and surrounded the rock – puny in comparison – that was his home village. It was his surrogate sky and horizon. A poor surrogate, he thought.

It was possible to walk on the trees. Rarely was it even needed to climb on them – for, although in the village, a discarded pebble would fall straight toward the ground, it was not so in the forest. A pebble dropped would fall towards the nearest tree, even if that meant falling up. The boy had learned to walk on the trees and let them serve as ground, no matter how they spiraled and spun. All the while, down would simply be toward the limb or trunk on which he tread, and up would be away from it. Such acrobatics were dizzying, as if the confused shapes of the trees weren't already enough, so few of the villagers dared enter the forest. Few, but not none. And the boy wasn't the only one.

There was another danger to the forest. Everywhere throughout it, hung a haze. It was muffling, and obscuring, sometimes dim and sometimes bright, sometimes hot and sometimes cold. Whenever he traveled through those woods, the haze was always around him. It did not permeate the village, but it was impossible to ignore from there either. Every direction, at the edge of sight. Blank.

That, though it made the maze more difficult, was not made the haze dangerous. For a pebble thrown within the village would fly a clear course and land or strike somewhere on the ground elsewhere. A pebble thrown within the maze could disappear into the mist, and never land anywhere. Once or twice, a pebble that had vanished from one place could be found elsewhere in the woods, far away. But it never seemed to happen the same way twice. The boy never dared jump into the haze – but he knew one who had.

Presently, he still stood at the edge of the village glade, at the place where one snakelike branch jutted against the rock. A bridge leading onward into the woods. He steeled himself, then alighted onto the branch and began along the familiar series of twists and turns that led to tonight's destination.

The village, still scarcely more than a dark shape, quickly fell out of sight as he walked what might have been called up one tree, and then turned along what might have been called along the underside of another. Down was toward the tree, and up was toward his head – he had to remind himself of this occasionally, to avoid getting vertigo.

He knew this route well enough that he could walk it in the dark – the textures of the bark on his feet could tell him where he was, just as easily as his eyes – but nevertheless, a faint green-gray light let him see the silhouettes of things immediately around him.

Suddenly, he halted. A noise came echoing from a direction he couldn't place. A familiar, and dreaded noise. Yet another danger of the forest.

Scrub-scrub-scrub-scrub it came, and every way he reeled his head, the boy felt like it was behind him. His dagger was at the ready, but the noisemaker never showed itself.

Scrub-scrub-scrub-scrub, then suddenly it stopped, paused a moment, and continued again, gradually fading away into silence.

The boy waited a long time before he moved again.

By the time the boy reached the place he had set out for, the light was now very pale gray. No longer was it shining from the mist itself but from something beyond it; things in the distance cast shadows through it, instead of being completely masked.

The branch led him to a landing near the bottom of a stone – not quite as large as the one the village was perched on, but still very large. It was truly a landing; a platform carved out of the stone, at the bottom of a staircase, which the boy now climbed.

The stone was capped with soft-soil loving grass and wildflowers, It was otherwise unadorned. A girl lay on her side in the grass, with her head propped on her arm. It was difficult to see her, as she was clad in green, and her hair was the color of fir needles. Her back was turned to the boy as he mounted the last stair, she was occupied with the view in front of her.

The backdrop of every other place was the tangle of the forest. Here, in front of them, was a patch of earth, larger than both the rock they were now on and the village glen. Ruined walls and towers, all overgrown with ivy and moss stood surrounded by a lush green meadow on that island. And though it pulled at their curiosity, neither the boy nor the girl, nor anyone who explored the woods, knew a path that could take them to it.

Beyond the island, though, as far as could be seen, even on the brightest and clearest of days, was nothing. If it was the sky, the boy couldn't be sure, as it was the same color as the haze. But it wasn't filled with trees, and he smiled in anticipation, for one other thing could be seen here, and he was just in time for it.

The girl stood, and pulled an ocarina flute from a satchel at her hip. She pressed it to her lips and a piercing melody, simple and beautiful, called out. The boy had heard the same song many times. It could be happy or sad, and seemed to be filled with anticipation, excitement, and warning. It was the song that greeted a new day.

As she played, a sliver of bright light appeared far in the distance. It widened until it took the shape of a ball, the bottom a reflection of the top. Then the haze closed around it and it could be seen no more.

A vibrant green glint darted by the boy's face. This was not part of the daybreak, and, startled, he made a small involuntary noise.

The light flitted around then hovered on gossamer wings near the girl's face. She turned to the boy and smiled.

"Hello Link," she said. "I'm glad you could make it."


	2. Mido, the Boss of the Kokiri

**Mido, the Boss of the Kokiri  
**a chapter of _The Force of Courage_**  
**

"I know you're only trying to be nice, Saria, but... there's something dangerous about him."

"Not everything that is different is dangerous."

The two were talking in low voices. Link hadn't come to Saria's house with the intent of eavesdropping, but the opportunity presented itself, so he took it. In a way, he was still minding his own business – they were, after all, talking about him.

He perched on a low bough in the tree whose root hollow served as Saria's home. The opening of her chimmeny was near him, and the thick canopy of leaves concealed him from all around, making it the ideal place to listen without being seen.

"I'm not trying to be unfair, Saria. I just have the village to look out for."  
"Not having a fairy isn't a crime. Especially not one punishable by banishment."

"You're twisting my words!" The guest's voice was angry now. "You're acting like I hate him or I'm afraid of him or something, like a coward. Given my way, I'd be his best friend, and run around and play in the woods with him all day like you do. But I can't."

"Right," said Saria sarcastically. "You have your precious responsibilities. As if you let any of us forget about them."

"Well, you're welcome to take my place whenever you want."

"All you do is boss us around."  
"I make us survive!" There was no need for Link to eavesdrop to hear him now. "I make sure there's food on our tables and clothes on our backs! If it weren't for me, nobody would look after the crops, or maintain the houses, or do anything but play ocarina! I make us work, because it seems like I'm the only one who knows how."

Saria was quiet. Other villagers were staring at her house, from the path or from their houses.

"And above everything else," the guest's voice was low now, "I make sure the village is safe. The forest scrubs are attracted to Link. They swarm after him, they seek him out. You can tell as easy as me that it's not just random chance the way they find him. And maybe they just think he's an easy target, but I think it means he's dangerous. I think the forest knows he doesn't belong, and that's why he doesn't have a fairy either. It's risky to the village for him to be here. Everyone else can see it. Why can't you?"

"If you want to protect the village so much," said Saria tensely, "why don't you get out that dusty old sword and fend off the forest scrubs yourself?"

"Because the scrubs don't come into the village. And they don't attack _my_ friends. They shouldn't attack yours either."

"I can't just stop being Link's friend! I'm the only friend he has."

"There's the skull kid. They can play in the woods together, far away, and leave us alone."

"I refuse."

"Try it for one day."

"No."

The two were silent again for a while. Link imagined they were staring each other down, each waiting for the other to flinch.

"Fine," came the guest's voice. As Link predicted. "You can have your way this time. But we're in real danger when he's around, and I don't think scrubs are the only thing that are coming after him. I just hope my sword is strong enough."

A chair scooted inside against Saria's plank floor. A few footsteps, then the door curtain parted, and Saria's guest stepped halfway out before hesitating and turning to face back inside.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you," he said.

"I'm sorry too," said Saria, and though he couldn't see her face, Link believed she was sincere. She was always sincere.

The guest departed from the house, but paused before turning to his own home. His name was Mido, and although he was taller than any of the villagers, including Link, he was also much thinner. In his right hand was clutched his usual faded green cap, which presently, he placed on top of his thin rust-colored hair. He hefted a weary sigh, before turning his gaze directly at Link.

"You know, it's rude to listen in on other people's conversations," he said simply.

Link was surprised Mido had noticed him, but he didn't let it show. "It's rude to talk about other people behind their backs."

"You and I already have our disagreements," he said. "I think it's worse for you to be rude to Saria than for me to be rude to you."

"I think you shouldn't worry so much about me just being rude," Link said, and hopped from the tree limb to the ground, springing his legs as he landed. He drew his knife, which had still been tucked into his belt, and pointed it at Mido's head. "I can be a lot worse than rude."

"No you can't," said Mido. "You act like a tough guy, but you and I both know you don't have the guts to kill someone."

"Don't I?!" Link ran at Mido, knife raised high above his head – but suddenly, he stopped. Saria was standing in her doorway, staring.

Fear was in her eyes.

A hard jolt to the head, and Link was falling backwards. Mido had punched him. He landed with his back on a hard root, and his vision blurred and dazzled.

"No," Mido said evenly. "You don't."

As quickly as he could, Link sat up, and braced himself against Saria's tree to help him stand. He felt strangely off-balance, and couldn't figure how.

Mido had already turned down the lane."Bring me the head of a forest scrub," he called over his shoulder. "Prove to me that you can defend yourself. Maybe that way, you can stay."

Link was on his feet, and no longer holding onto the tree, but he still felt off-balance. At once, he realized that it was because Saria wasn't at his side. He turned, and saw she was still in her doorway, on the verge of tears.

There was nothing he could say.

So he picked up his knife, from where it had fallen, and walked away.


	3. Restless, and Full of Nightmares

**Restless, and Full of Nightmares**  
a chapter of _The Force of Courage._

Nobody had taught Link to carve pictures in wood. He had simply started doing it to try to emulate the carvings that were already in his house. His were never as good, but he kept at it. There were dozens of them, mostly animals and scenes of adventure, and there were also portraits of the villagers. They were really good, easily recognizable – especially the portraits – but none of the villagers knew who had carved them. The villagers were strange that way.

When there wasn't any more room to carve on his walls or floor, Link had been faced with a challenge of finding a new place to make his carvings. He didn't want Mido to see them, so when he found the grotto deep in the woods, he knew it was the perfect place.

The grotto was one of the sporadic landmarks in the woods, and the one farthest away from the village that Link knew about – except for the lonely rope bridge, part of which could sometimes be seen from the grotto through a gap in the trees, but Link did not know how to get to the rope bridge.

The grotto was the massive cave-like hollow log of some ancient fallen tree. The mist often gathered into falling dew in that region of the woods, and the grotto provided good shelter. Link liked to go there sometimes to think and be alone. He could build a fire, and carve on all of the walls, and not have to worry about anything else.

And that was exactly why he had come there this time, to be alone and not worry about anything else. His latest carving was taking more room than most of the others. He always carved pictures of his dreams. He felt they were important, and didn't want to forget about them – not when they felt so real in the moment. This one was a bigger dream than most, there was a monster with scales and horns, and Link had a big sword and a shield like some hero in a legend. And there was one other thing.

Link hesitated. In the dream he had had a fairy. He didn't know if he wanted to carve that part. It felt too much like getting his hopes up.  
"You have a dream again, yeah?" said a voice behind him. A familiar voice, but not one of the villagers.

Link didn't turn. Instead, he marked a small cross where the fairy had been in his dream, more as a placeholder than an image of her.

"Nightmares. They're always nightmares," he said. It was true. Even this dream, where he was a big hero with a fairy, had been terrifying.

"At least they're different for you," said the voice casually. "What is it this time?"

"More of the one where I had a big sword. I was up against a really big monster. I was sure I was going to die."

"That's a scary dream, Wolf Kid," said the voice. "But not as bad as mine. I think I'm still not telling you about mine."

Link finally turned to face the newcomer. Although he acted very strangely, the Skull Kid was one of Link's only true friends. He sat cross-legged in front of Link's fire, holding out a dead weasel that was skewered on the end of a sharpened stick. The kid was dressed in several layers of baggy clothing, which were apparently stuffed with straw, as pieces of it stuck out through seams and openings. He had a very wide-brimmed hat that was made from dry red leaves, and over his face he wore a wooden mask fashioned into the shape of a skull.

The mask was why everyone called him the Skull Kid. Nobody knew his real name.

The Skull Kid's fairy drifted by in a slow spiral. Tael, or so the Skull Kid had introduced him as, never made much noise the way other fairies did, with the flitting and chiming. Tael was a silent fairy, ghostlike.

Apparently fairies could also talk to their charges in some secret language Link never knew about. Whether it was in their minds, or just something Link couldn't hear, he didn't know. That never seemed to happen between Tael and the Skull Kid either, though. He never paused to listen to Tael, and Tael never made any sign that he wanted to speak. Maybe Tael was mute.

There was actually a little less light in the grotto now that the Skull Kid and his fairy had shown up. The fire seemed a little grayer, and Tael was dim purple to look at. He only seemed bright, colored blood red, if he wasn't looked at straight-on, or faintly around the edges of his glow. These were creatures of the mist of the woods, and they brought it with them, even though they didn't mean to.

The Skull Kid was the acrobat Link knew, who could navigate the forest by jumping into the haze. He had been more places in the woods than anyone ever dared go. He called it his playground.

The fur on the weasel was getting very singed, so the Skull Kid lifted it out of the fire, and began eating. He didn't offer any to Link, mostly because Link didn't care much for weasel. They'd shared meals together before, of other creatures and treats of the woods.

"Ocarina Kid is looking for you," the Skull Kid said after a moment. "I see her near the flowers rock. She looks sad. She's coming this way before long." Ocarina Kid was his nickname for Saria, and it had taken several years of such conversations for Link to figure out the Skull Kid could not actually see everything that happened in his forest. He simply had a funny way of saying things he had already seen and done.

"How soon?"

"I don't know," he said. "I just see her, that's all. I say 'Hi.' She smiles sadly, and asks me if I see you. I say 'No.' Then I leave. That's all."

"Thanks. I don't know if I want her to find me here. I've been on edge all day because of the nightmare, and Mido – er, Bossy Kid – wants me to leave the village. I snapped and...really scared her."

"Do you kill someone?"

"No, but I came close."

"Don't kill someone if you can avoid it."

"I'll keep that in mind."

The Skull Kid had mostly finished his weasel. It was an unsightly mess, and the fact that he didn't lift his mask, but tried to eat through the gap under the skull's teeth, made it even worse. He put the rest of his meal into a pocket inside one of his coats, and wiped his hands on his pantlegs. A corner of the bandage on his right hand came up, and he started fussing with it to get it to stay down.

"Why do you even wear that mask?" said Link, wanting to change the subject.

"I tell you already. I like it. I have another mask I like too, but I don't wear it anymore. So I wear this mask now instead."

It was a story he had told before, but Link had hoped for more specifics.

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the soft hiss of falling dew. Link watched through the mouth of the grotto as the tiny flecks of it spiraled and whirled before vanishing into the haze. He liked the way they moved, but he wasn't sure why. Then he noticed a faint green light in the distance.

It was Saria's fairy. In the woods, the fairies could always be seen before the villagers.

"Here she comes," said the Skull Kid. "If you want, I can take you and hide you."

"No, thank you. I still don't think I'm ready to try jumping through the haze."

"Suit yourself. You want me to stay, or maybe I go?"

"Do what you want. I don't want to make a big deal out of this."

Saria was calling now. Link couldn't hear what she was saying, but he could see her silhouette in the haze. She could probably see the light of his fire.  
Link went back to work on his carving. Saria was approaching, and it was clear she was calling his name now, but he pretended he could not hear. He etched in the fairy, and added more details to the scenery – he could hardly remember it now – searching for any excuse to still be working on it.

Saria stepped under the roof of the grotto. She usually wore a hooded cape and longer pantlegs when she came where the dew fell, but as Link turned to face her, she was wearing the same warm weather clothes as when he had last seen her, but she was shivering dripping wet. Apparently she'd been searching for a while.

"Link!" she shouted, running and clutching him tight. "Don't you worry me like that!"

"I find him!" the Skull Kid declared triumphantly. After a moment, when Saria didn't acknowledge him, he shrugged, stepped outside, and backflipped into the haze. Tael followed closely behind.

It was a long time before anything changed, Saria holding Link close, and Link feeling too ashamed to return the embrace. Eventually, Saria eased a little, and Link shook his shoulders so she'd let go. She stepped back, arms crossed, and admired the carving he had been working on.

"Is this one new?" she asked.

"Yes."

"And it's from one of your night-vision things?"

"Yes."

Link didn't like to talk to Saria about his dreams. She had never had one, and she simply didn't understand how real they could feel. How terrifying they could be. And how the fright never grew old, and he could never become accustomed to them.

The other villagers, the Kokiri, were so very different from Link. It was hard to get them to remember things that had happened only a few days before, or to distinguish the events of one such day from another.

They clearly had no ability to remember things from years ago, even though Link did. Nobody else seemed to notice, but he was growing. In his most distant memories, he had been the little kid in the village, raised and looked after by Saria. Then, as he got older and started approaching the others in size, he was allowed to move into the village's empty house. He was allowed to keep the knife that Saria always said belonged to him. She'd let him go into the woods with her, and Mido started expecting him to work around the village.

He was taller than Saria now. He remembered the day he realized it. She didn't remember that it had ever been otherwise.

Dreaming every night, and remembering things long past every day – growing and changing, and clearly the only one to do so – Link constantly wondered what he was. Whenever he voiced this concern, Saria always said, "You're my friend."

He wondered if that could really last.

So, as she asked questions about the details in his carving, and the ones around it, he gave her one-word answers and hoped she'd leave him alone soon.  
"It looks scary. Is it supposed to be that scary?"

"No, Saria. I can't make it a tenth of how scary it's supposed to be."

"Hm. Maybe we should see the Deku Tree about these dreams."

"Maybe you should stop dodging around and talk about what you came for. I ran at Mido with my dagger. I wanted to kill him. I still do. I'm a danger to your friends, to you, and you came here to ask me to leave the village."

"Do you really think our friendship means that little to me?" Link expected Saria to be close to tears when she said it, but as he looked, he saw she was angry. "I just want to make sure you're safe! It's nothing more elaborate than that. I can't just abandon a friend like you, not when there's nobody else for you to go to. If that's really how you feel, I think we should talk to the Deku Tree about that. Now."

"I think the Deku Tree should have given me a fairy when he made me," said Link. "The fact that he didn't means it's obvious he never wanted me. I don't want to talk to him any more than I want to talk to Mido."

"Don't say that! The Deku Tree loves you! It's not my place to say why he makes everybody different."

"Different! You can't even tell how different I am! I had another dream where I saw the sky. The SKY, Saria. I want to see it in real life so badly, and I don't know why. I just... I don't like the forest anymore. I don't know if I ever did."

"The Deku Tree will want to hear about this. Just think of what it's like to talk to him, how wonderful and peaceful it feels."

Link didn't answer. He'd never actually spoken to, or even seen the Deku Tree. All he knew came from the other villagers, that he was the creator and guardian spirit of the forest. Everything there came from him.

"Maybe you can't remember," she said. That was rich, considering.

Link felt very tired all of a sudden, and didn't want to argue. Maybe he had lost the fight. Maybe it would be a good idea to pacify Saria. He didn't want her to be mad at him.

She kept her hands on his shoulders and guided him out of the grotto along the tree limb path. She hummed softly to herself as she walked, and Link realized she hadn't hummed to calm him like that since he was very small. Maybe she could remember things from long ago.

He relaxed for the first time all day. Let himself be carried away in the melody she hummed – not the one she greeted the sun with, but a different one. One she usually played on ocarina near the daybreak meadow, or from the tree swing above her house. A light, dancy one that made him think of bright green light and happier afternoons gone by.

He became so lost in the song, that he didn't notice faint in the distance, the approaching sound.

Scrub-scrub-scrub-scrub.


	4. To Leave the Village

**To Leave the Village  
**a chapter of _The Force of Courage_**  
**

Link's canteen lay unceremoniously against the wall behind his table. Judging by the weight, there was still a little water in it; by the smell, it had been there for a while. He would need to wash it before he left.

Of course a canteen would be necessary outside the forest. It could be a while before he found his next source of water. He didn't really know what it would be like out there, but he had to be ready.

He poured the stale contents of the canteen out his window, and thrust it empty into his leather satchel. Next, he'd definitely want his wolf knife. It wasn't in its usual place under his pillow, but rather discarded beside his door.

There was still a little blood on the tip.

_Scrub-scrub-scrub-scrub._

_It was too late to run._

_The scratching and skittering noises came from every direction._

_Eyes glowing like coals in the haze._

_Link and Saria were clearly surrounded._

_Forest scrubs._

_One stepped out where they could see it._

_It was very big._

_Bigger than Link had ever seen._

_A mane of scarlet leaves._

_Long, scarred snout._

_Lean, powerful legs._

_Six sets of sharp claws._

_A yellow scrub came out from behind._

_Smaller._

_Not by much._

_There was a long, painful moment where nothing happened and nobody moved._

_Not long enough._

"Link? Are you okay in there?"

Link jolted alert. He was slumped in his chair, still staring at his knife.

Of all people, Mido was the one calling to him. Or at least it sounded like Mido.

"Yeah, I'm fine," said Link gruffly. "Just leave me alone already."

"I–" It was definitely Mido's voice, but it was unlike him to be at a loss for words. "I just–"

"You just _what?_"

"May I come in?"

"No." But Link could tell Mido wasn't going to leave him alone without talking to him, so he set the knife down again and went outside to talk face to face.

When Link saw him, again it didn't seem quite like it was actually Mido. He looked too small, too deflated, but there was nobody else for Link to mistake him with. His green cap was absent, his rust-color hair limply hung in wisps over his eyes, and his thin, careworn face stared tiredly. Unlike other times he'd visited Link's home, he was not leaning against the porch rail, or examining flaws in the woodwork, or undergoing any of his unpleasant mannerisms. He merely stood there, trying his best to be unimposing.

In his hands, Mido clutched a basket of fresh baked nut rolls, a treat Link had known every other villager to enjoy except for Mido.

"What is it you want?" Link said, ignoring the bread.

"Would you like to see Saria now?" Link didn't respond. Mido began stammering, almost pleading, "She's awake now. And she's doing really well after... After everything. She wants to see you."

Link wanted to see her, but he knew that would only make things harder. He had already made up his mind that he was going to leave the forest tonight and never return. There was no way he could break that news to her. He needed to be far away before she found out.

"Is that all you came for?"

"No." Mido hesitated before awkwardly thrusting the basket of bread at Link's chest. "This is for you."

It was the last thing Link had expected – or so he thought. He gingerly took the basket, examining it for some kind of prank. But, as far as he could see, it was what it looked like: a reed basket piled with rather delicious-smelling warm nut rolls.

"What are you trying to pull?" Link said, when he was convinced the rolls were genuine.

"I'm – I'm just trying to be nice."

"You never just try to be nice to me. What's really going on?"

"I – I, uh..." Then the veneer of softness was gone, and Mido sounded like his angry self again. "Oh shut up. Seriously, Link, this time I _am_ just trying to be nice. And if you want me to go back to being harsh and mean, then so be it, but I owe you at least this one kindness. Keep the rolls. They're some of my sister's finest, and I don't care if you eat them or use them as door stops."

Then Mido started laughing. This truly was the last thing Link expected. He laughed hard and long for a moment, then continued, "I mean, you can check them for bombs or something." Link couldn't think of a time where he had heard Mido's laughter before. "But they're good. Oh, they're so good." And the laughter calmed slowly until as a low chuckle, it died out. "I owe it to you. At least this one thing, but I can give you anything. You're part of my village. An important part of my village."

Link was stunned. He had never seen Mido act like this.

When Mido realized that Link wasn't going to say anything else, he nodded, turned, and went down the ladder. "Oh," he called from the bottom. "Don't use them as door stops. You need to eat, I...uh...I don't think you're eating as much as you should. You need to keep up your strength."

Link took one of the rolls from the basket.

Fado was the sister Mido mentioned, and it was common knowledge that her baked goods were the best in the village. A basket of rolls like this was highly prized, and in the hands of another villager, it might be divied around in exchange for favors, or else hoarded and eaten slowly to ensure the delight would last. When Mido had started trying to force Link out of the village, Fado immediately forbade that any of her treats go to Link. Since then, he could only get anything if Saria smuggled it to him, or if he stole it.

Now Mido had deliberately given an entire basket straight to Link.

The roll in his hand was soft and lightly browned, with just the right amount of spice sprinkled on top. It was, indeed, one of Fado's finest, and Link wondered if maybe things would be different now. Maybe he could have a good life in the forest after all, and he had just needed to prove himself.

But it wasn't really Mido that made him decide to leave. Nor was it anything he could change. Although he had long mused with the idea of leaving the forest to escape Mido, or the trees, or any of the minute things that together made life there seem unbearable, he had never actually taken it seriously until now. Link determined that he had to leave the forest for the same reason that Mido had, so long ago, determined that Link had to leave the village. It had just taken this long for him to realize what Mido said was true.

He was dangerous.

For as long as Link could remember, the scrubs never touched Saria. They were always ruthless and violent toward him when he was alone, but they never touched Saria. She didn't flinch when she heard them coming, but actually smiled. And if she and Link were ever together when they encountered scrubs, the scrubs would part the way and let her through.

Something had changed. Now they wanted to hurt Link by hurting her.

The thought left him monumentally unhungry. He couldn't bear to stomach even the best rolls in the village.

So, he placed the roll back on top of the basket, which he then set on his table. and went back to packing.

Packing. Now, that was something he could busy himself with. Something quiet.

_Every forest scrub was screeching._

_Hundreds of them._

_Thousands._

_No, there were at least nineteen, and less than forty, but that was still too many._

_Could have been thousands._

_Their hide was too hard._

_A good swing with the knife._

_Would have killed him._

_Barely left a scratch._

_A notch in a block of wood._

_More yellow leaves backed off._

_The red one was missing._

_She was still safe._

_He was at her side, chasing off more yellow leaves._

_She was crying._

_She was scared._

_Too many of them jumped at him._

_Hundreds._

_No, three._

_Falling backwards._

_Now upwards, back to the branch._

_No, the branch was down, the branch was supposed to be down._

_But it felt like up._

_The three were biting._

_Thorns for teeth._

_Grabbing, catching, not cutting._

_Swing the knife._

_Knock off some leaves._

_They back off._

_Where was she?_

_She was alone._

_Wrong side of the world._

_No, wrong side of the branch._

_He was on his feet again, scrambling._

_She was alone._

_No, she wasn't._

_There was the red one._

A pile of seeds was in his right hand, which Link found himself placing one-by-one into a small bag. He wasn't sure how many times he had tried to count these same seeds – or, when he thought about it, why he was even counting them.

Exasperated with himself, he dumped the rest into the bag, tied it fast, and threw it into his satchel. The light outside was fading quickly. He'd need to focus and finish packing if he wanted to leave during the night without anyone noticing.

He looked at the contents of his satchel. There was already a warm cape, the canteen, a lantern and a flask of lamp oil, a bundle of bandages and supplies for tending to injuries. And now, a small bag of useless seeds which he had, for whatever reason, decided to count a dozen times; and all of the nut rolls.

With his knife on his belt, that would be enough.

He was ready. He could now leave as soon as it was dark enough, and never again return to this awful place. Never again have to see Mido, or the ever-present maze of trees, or the forest scrubs.

Or Saria.

Link halted. He felt a pit in his stomach. It would be cruel to abandon her without at least telling her what happened. He decided to leave a note.

He wracked his brain trying to think of what he'd say. By the time he came up with something he thought was almost decent, the light was so faint he had to get out his lantern and light it. Too much precious time had trickled by before he finally took pen to paper and scratched out some words.

"Saria. I left to see what the world is like outside the forest. Please, just make this easier, and forget I was ever here."

He did not leave his name. She'd know who wrote it for as long as she remembered him. And when she'd forgotten him, the note would be useless. Writing his name would probably just prolong what was sure to be the most painful time for her: the time while she still remembered him, but he was gone.

Still, he was certain that Saria would eventually forget about him the same way that she had forgotten about everything else. He knew he was not the first friend to leave her. There was the villager who built Link's house; nobody could remember what became of him. Link only knew about him because he'd left carvings on the walls. There could be others, lost completely.

Bitter as it was, to think that his closest friend would forget he ever existed, there was also something poetic about it. Saria was such an innocent, pure creature that nothing could ever change her, make her anything less. She would forever be herself, wonderful and kind. Beautiful, even. And immortal.

Nothing Link did would make her any less than that.

_She was not moving._

_She was bleeding._

_She was not moving._

_She was not moving!_

_There was the red one._

_Tall._

_It did this._

_It did this!_

_Swing the knife._

_Swing it again._  
_The red one is fighting back._

_He doesn't care._

_Stab the knife._

_Kick the head._

_There, its throat._  
_Exposed._

_Stab the knife._

_Chip the bark._

_It yells._

_Stab again._

_It backs away._

_It runs away._

_They all run away._

_The red one didn't run away, though._

_Not quite the same way that the other ones did. They were all pathetic, cowards, but the largest red one turned back around._

_Link steadied his breath. Relaxed his joints. There was hot blood on his arm, but that was just a scratch. Nothing worthy of concern. Here was still a giant red forest scrub, and it was barely wounded, turning back toward Saria. Link could have stayed and fought it all day. Fought it for the rest of his life._

_If Saria was still alive, she would be saved._

_And if she was dead, she would be avenged._

_It bounded back, leaping and raising all six of its arms._

_Link leaped as well, fists forward. They collided mid-air, but Link had chosen an off-angle. They flew sideways, whirling with the shifting gravity, striking the side of the branch, then rolling around the underside, and back even to where they started._

_Link's knife found its way into the creature's mouth, and there, finally, conjured blood. The creature howled, but Link couldn't stab again._

_His knife was gone._

_He was standing above the creature on a flat stone surface. But it wasn't the same creature. It only had four legs instead of six, and fur and skin instead of leaves and bark. It also had tusks. And it was bigger. By far. He was beneath its shakily breathing form._

_Link backed away, startled. But his back hit against something. The monster was gone._

_He turned around._

_The light was too bright._

_It was a tall man in black armor._

Link woke with a shout.

That had not happened in a long time – he'd taught himself not to make any sound even when the dreams woke him up. Sheepish, he wondered if anyone else had heard him, and as he lay in his bed, he strained his ears for any reaction from his neighbors.

Nothing.

He didn't intend to fall asleep, but it had been a very long day. That was probably why he kept spacing out and getting lost in memory. Except that dream wasn't only memory, it had devolved into another nightmare.

Then Link realized to his dismay that there was pale blue light growing in his room. His lantern had long since gone out; it was already predawn shining through the window. He'd missed his chance, if he left now, he might run into Saria.

But there wouldn't be another chance like this, maybe he could still make it. He lurched from his bed, grabbed the lantern, the satchel, and the knife, then yanked the curtain open to go outside.

Except the rest of the forest was still dark. The dim colors of fairies peeking out from the silent sleeping houses. The stagnant air was still warm. It felt, for all the world, like midnight.

"Hello Link," said a soft voice behind him. "My name is Navi."


End file.
